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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582851">Midsommar</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockholm_syndrom/pseuds/stockholm_syndrom'>stockholm_syndrom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Corvo Bianco (The Witcher), Dreams, Found Family, Gen, Midsummer, Multi, implied Cirilla/Cerys, nordic traditions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:27:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26582851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stockholm_syndrom/pseuds/stockholm_syndrom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Midsummer; Yennefer, Jaskier, and Geralt dream</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Midsommar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/gifts">GoldenDaydreams</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was pondering soulmate au’s when I was reminded of this midsummer tradition we have here in the north. In the evening after midsummer celebrations, kids go out into the fields and pick seven flowers, in silence, that they then put under a pillow to dream of their true love. I've done it many times as a child, and midsummer is my favourite holiday. It's not quite a soulmate au anymore, but I enjoyed bringing a fond tradition of mine into the witcherverse. </p><p>This if for GoldenDaydreams birthday, so sorry it’s late!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Midsummer was the biggest celebration in their village, it signalled the start of the summer, and girls wore their summer best even those years when it was barely warmer than winter and the last of the snow still lingered. Spirits were always high and Gods were worshipped through dance and prayer, in the hopes of a fruitful harvest. </p><p>During the day the whole village danced, going round and round the maypole, flowers flying out of women’s hair as the dances grew faster and sillier. When their parents left for their own dancing in the evening, the children were allowed to roam the fields in search of their future, watched over by the midnight sun. </p><p>When Yennefer was young she tried to follow the other girls into the fields, wanting to pick the flowers that would show her the face of her true love. But when she tried to join, she was chased away, the girls shouting at her that no one as ugly as she had any business hoping for a husband. </p><p>The following years, she would follow at a distance, hanging around the edge of the field, hidden, looking on as the village girls played at solemn silence. Picking their flowers and then walking back home in a giggling line, the boys stopping in their play to crane their necks, maybe hoping that someone would dream of them.</p><p>This year, Yennefer waited until they all went inside their homes and then she ran onto the field, picking flowers as fast as she could so that they would be out of the ground before the sun could set, carefully counting them to make sure she had the right amount. And though she was out of breath, Yennefer didn’t let a single sound escape her lips. </p><p>She hid her flowers as she crept inside, carefully placing them in a neat row beneath her pillow, and as she lay down she was so tense it took her hours to fall asleep.</p><p>That night she dreamt of a child laughing and she <em>knew</em> that she would become important to someone. </p><p>——</p><p>Every midsummer Jaskier begged to be allowed to join his cousins and sisters at night, but boys were not allowed, they said, and they left him at home. </p><p>He complained and pouted and whined and when he was eight he finally wore them down. But he didn’t even make it to the second flower before he forgot he was supposed to stay silent, and in the resulting outrage two of his sisters broke their vow of silence. His mother dragged him back home while his sisters shouted, and he was never allowed to join the girls again after that. </p><p>As he grew older, he told himself that that none of them actually saw anything real. However, sitting at the breakfast table when his aunt took turns interpreting the girls’ dreams, spinning exciting tales of the husbands they would have, he felt a burning curiosity. He also wanted to know what husband or wife he might find one day!</p><p>When he was eleven his curiosity finally got the better of him, and he snuck out alone after the girls had returned. He walked the field in silence, picking up buttercups and dandelions, carefully selecting all his favourite flowers and triple-checking that he had seven different kinds in his hands before he snuck back home. </p><p>Being silent for so long was probably the most difficult thing Jaskier had ever done in his life, his lips tingled from biting down on them to make sure he didn’t start humming. </p><p>He solemnly placed the flowers under his pillow, thoughts swirling in his head. Who would he see? would they be clever? handsome? </p><p>When he woke, what lingered was the musical notes of a lute, and memories of companionship under the stars. </p><p>—-</p><p>Geralt was bringing Ciri back for her second stay at Kaer Morhen. She was supposed to be studying with Yennefer for a few months more, but Yennefer had written to him that he needed to move Ciri to safety fast, and he had ridden out at once.</p><p>Fortunately, Ciri wasn’t too disturbed by having to flee yet again. In fact, she was cheerfully bounding towards him, looking ready for a trek when they were meant to be setting up camp for the night. </p><p>“It’s midsummers eve, I almost forgot, so we have to hurry! The sun is about to set.” Ciri urged, shifting from foot to foot.</p><p>“Hmm?” Geralt asked.  </p><p>“I need to pick my flowers before the last rays of the sun has set!” She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the forest. </p><p>“Why?” Geralt asked bemused. He knew sorceresses had strange traditions and initiations, but he thought they had all agreed that a flower picked at dusk or dawn was the same damned flower. If some bright-eyed new academic had gone and published a book that had people picking flowers at night while nekkers ate them, Geralt would-. Well, he would do what he always did and save the ungrateful fools, he thought with a sigh. He was getting to old for this.</p><p>“To dream of my one true love!” Ciri said in annoyance, looking at Geralt as if he was an idiot. “I didn’t bother before, because princesses have to marry ugly old kings, but now I want to know who my beloved is.”</p><p>Geralt rolled his eyes, which was a mistake, since it resulted in Ciri stomping off towards the forest alone. </p><p>“Wait!” Geralt protested “There are nekkers in the area.”</p><p>Ciri turned around and pointed a finger at him “I’m going, you can join me or not. But if you do, you keep to the traditions.” </p><p>Ciri gave him a quick rundown, and it did ring some kind of bell for him, enough for Geralt to suspect that the traditions actually stated that men weren’t allowed near the women or the flowers. But Ciri was firm on the fact that if he planned on accompanying her, he would be picking flowers too. </p><p>Gathering herbs in silence was hardly a hardship for Geralt, and it seemed to matter to Ciri, so he obliged, and chose useful flowers that he could grind down in the morning for his oils. </p><p>Together they wandered back to their campsite in silence. As they got ready to sleep, Ciri glared at him until he dutifully placed the flowers underneath his makeshift pillow. He rolled his eyes at the stars but went to bed feeling fond.</p><p>In the morning Ciri regaled him with every detail of her dream, and he listened as he packed up their bedrolls and prepared Roach, her happy chattering filling him with warmth as she described the pretty redhead she had seen running through a meadow with a sword in her hand. </p><p>As he brushed Roach, Geralt let his mind wander to his own dreams. There wasn’t much he remembered, he had been somewhere unfamiliar, but in the dream, he had felt at home there. Ciri had been there, but she had looked older, a carefree young woman laughing with Yen and Jaskier as Geralt listened to them sing and tell their tales.</p><p>He didn’t believe much in old wives’ tales, but it had been a pleasant dream nonetheless.</p>
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